


Maybe I Do

by artenon



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What? Jack's sick?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I Do

**Author's Note:**

> okay this is really embarrassing but do you remember when i was into lord of the flies last year?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~me neither those memories are repressed~~
> 
>  
> 
> well, i was cleaning out my WIPs folder and i found this fic that was basically complete but i never posted it for some reason? so i just did a little bit of editing and i uh. am now posting it. against my better judgment.
> 
> yeah. bye.
> 
> (i am 95% positive i started writing this fic when i was sick and dying)

Ralph looked at the group of boys loitering outside the shelter, and waited.

And waited.

“Where’s Jack?” he demanded when no explanation was forthcoming.

Some of the boys glanced at each other, looking uncomfortable.

“Merridew’s ill,” they said. “He’s not feeling well.”

“What? Jack’s sick?” Ralph asked, surprised.

They nodded, and Ralph’s brows furrowed in concern. He started into the shelter.

“He doesn’t want to be bothered,” Robert protested, lifting a hand to stop him, but Ralph ignored him.

Jack was curled up in a corner of the shelter with his back to Ralph. “Go away,” he muttered when Ralph entered. “Told you to leave me alone.”

“Just let me see what’s wrong with you,” Ralph said, and Jack half-turned.

“Ralph?”

“Yes?”

He turned away again. “The others were supposed to keep you out.”

“Too bad.” Ralph stepped closer and noticed him shivering. “Are you cold?”

Jack shifted. “A little.”

“Do you want a blanket?” Ralph asked, glancing at the pile of abandoned choir robes by the wall. “I can—”

“No. It’s hot.”

Ralph blinked. “All right.”

Kneeling beside him, he could see now that Jack’s body was covered in sweat. He pressed his hand to Jack’s forehead, ignoring the other boy’s squirms of protest. He had a light fever.

“What’ve you eaten recently?” he asked.

“Nngh. Fruit. What else is there?”

Ralph just nodded, stood, and retreated toward the exit.

“Wait,” said Jack.

“Hm?”

A beat. Then, “Never mind. Don’t let the others back in.”

“Sure.”

Outside, Ralph was greeted by a clamor of boys with questions.

“Is he okay?”

“What did he say?”

“Does he need us?—”

“Shut up a minute!” Ralph said, flustered, unable to answer the barrage.

“All right, listen,” he said once they had quieted. “You lot aren’t doing any good standing around out here, so you may as well make yourselves useful and go do your jobs, and Jack’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“No, no buts. And I don’t want anyone else going in there; I don’t want anyone else getting sick.”

There was greater unrest at this, and Ralph sighed impatiently.

“I’ll stay with him, all right?” he said. “I’m just going to fetch him some water. When I’m back, I hope you’ll all have gone to do something useful.”

He glared at them, just in case some of them didn’t get that he was giving an order. The boys might be under Jack’s authority, but he was chief, so they were under his, too. Ignoring their discontented murmurs, Ralph made a pointed turn and went to grab the water-filled coconut shells they had laid out. However, he was glad to find, upon his return, that the other boys had finally left.

Jack, though, wasn’t too happy to see him, sounding decidedly grouchy as he said, “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” Ralph affirmed flatly. “Brought you water.”

“I don’t want any.”

“Look,” said Ralph, “I’m going to be here whether you like it or not, so you may as well stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Jack mumbled.

“Then I suppose you want to just lay there and be miserable and not get better,” Ralph replied unkindly.

Jack muttered something indistinct and Ralph crouched down beside him, coaxing now as he said, “Come on, at least drink some.”

He helped Jack sit up a little, and was surprised at how cold and clammy he felt; he considered suggesting a bath, but wasn’t sure if the cold water would do more harm than good. So he just pressed to the coconut shell to his lips, relieved when Jack took a few reluctant sips before dropping down again, shaking Ralph off of him.

“Do you want anything else?” Ralph asked.

“No,” Jack said, and mumbled something inaudibly.

“What was that?”

“I _said_ ,” hissed Jack, scowling at him, a faint blush on his cheeks, “no one will respect me anymore after they see how weak I am.”

Ralph tilted his head at him, considering. “I don’t think you’re weak.”

Jack stared at him. He seemed surprised, and Ralph shrugged.

“So you’re sick. It happens. Someone was bound to get sick eventually. You’ll get better, and no one will think any less of you.”

Jack had turned his head away while he was speaking. He seemed now to finally give in, deflating a little and asking, in an uncharacteristically small voice, “Then…will you, ah, stay until I fall asleep?”

Ralph was surprised but oddly pleased. “Of course.”

He sat back, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees, but he began to regret wanting to stay when he was forced to look on as Jack moved around restlessly, unable to do anything other than wish he _could_ do something to ease the pain.

Ralph kept his vigil even after Jack finally slipped into sleep, watching with relief the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, reassuring himself that he would indeed get better soon.

He was beginning to doze off himself when Jack began thrashing, low whines of discomfort escaping his throat. Alarmed, Ralph reached for him. Hand met shoulder, and Jack curled in on himself with a whimper.

“Do you need to throw up?” Ralph asked. “You’ll feel better—let me take you to the lavatory—”

He helped Jack to his feet, but after that Jack pushed him off without a word and Ralph trailed helplessly after him as he staggered to the rocks by the bathing pool.

Ralph turned away as Jack knelt and retched, but he stayed beside him and ran his hand soothingly up and down his back, remembering how it had made him feel better whenever he was sick back home.

_Back home._

The thought made his vision blur for a second. If only they were home, where they could get a doctor, some medicine. Then again, if they were home, Jack probably wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place. But would he really be all right without professional medical attention?

“It was probably just something you ate,” Ralph said, as much to himself as to Jack, still rubbing his back. “Some bad fruit or something. You’ll be fine.”

Jack didn’t reply, just remained kneeling and trembling for a moment longer before standing up shakily, wiping his mouth with his arm and starting slowly back to the shelters.

On the way back, they passed some of the others. They stepped towards Jack, questions on their tongues, but Jack drove them off before they could even finish a sentence.

“Shut up! Go away!”

Helplessly, Ralph followed him into the shelter, pausing only to give the other boys an apologetic look.

Jack was red-faced, mortified that the others had seen him in such a state, and he refused to look at Ralph as he lay down again.

“Jack—”

“And you go away, too!” he snapped, sounding a thorough mix of angry and embarrassed. “Why did you stay? Do you think you have some _obligation_ because you’re chief—”

“Because I’m worried about you, idiot,” Ralph interrupted testily. “So’s everyone else.”

That shut Jack up for a good minute.

Finally, he muttered something that might have been “Sorry,” and curled up again to sleep.

Ralph smiled at his back a little sadly as he took up his vigil again.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Jack stirred again—hours, probably. Ralph had spent that time alternating between thinking, staring at Jack and trying to will him back to wellness, and drifting in and out of sleep.

“Hey,” he said now, as Jack let out a quiet noise and turned over. “Feeling better?”

“Not really,” said Jack hoarsely. “Um—”

Ralph was by his side with water before he could say anything else, and Jack stared at him, an indiscernible expression in his eyes, before accepting the drink.

“My stomach hurts,” he whimpered after a moment, shoving the shell back at Ralph. “And my head.”

“I know,” Ralph whispered, pushing damp red bangs aside to feel his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Jack glared at him in an _I don’t want your pity_ sort of way and shied away from his hand. “You—” he started, then broke off and closed his eyes again, face contorting in pain, fingers digging into the ground.

Ralph bit his bottom lip worriedly, not sure what he should do. He moved his hand to settle on Jack’s back; it had seemed to help earlier.

“You should eat something,” he suggested, as if speaking to a small child. “You haven’t eaten in a while, have you?”

“It’ll just,” Jack gasped, “come up again.”

“But if you don’t eat anything, you’ll just get worse,” Ralph protested.

Jack said nothing for a while. Then he muttered, sullenly, “I don’t want to eat.”

“Stop being a baby,” Ralph said, because he knew Jack would hate it, hopefully push him to eat.

Sure enough, Jack’s eyes snapped open and he twisted around to grab Ralph’s wrist. “I’m not a _baby_.”

Ralph met his gaze steadily. “Then quit acting like one and let me help you. Or help yourself, if you please.”

“I didn’t ask for you to stay,” Jack said in response.

Which wasn’t entirely true, but Ralph let it slide this time, saying, “No, but I chose to.”

“Then leave. I don’t want you.”

Ralph stood up, pulling out of Jack’s grip and stumbling out of the shelter.

“Fine,” he muttered, even though Jack couldn’t hear him. “Fine.”

He wandered down to the beach, walking slowly down the shoreline, kicking sand up and cursing Jack’s stubbornness. He was just _worried_ about him; the least Jack could do was show a little gratitude.

A hand touched his arm, and Ralph turned.

“Simon?”

Simon ducked his head a little. “Is Jack all right?” he asked in his small voice.

“He’s… I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Ralph told him reassuringly. “He just needs to rest.”

“Yes,” said Simon. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Ralph asked.

“For looking after him.” Simon smiled at him.

Ralph smiled back, guiltily. “He does need looking after, doesn’t he? Stubborn. I’m going to get some food for him,” he continued, “try and get him to eat.”

Simon nodded in agreement, and helped him to collect fruit and bring it back to Jack.

They poked their heads into the shelter. Jack was asleep, or pretending to be asleep. His shoulders were too tense.

“Jack?” Ralph cleared his throat, stepping into the shelter. “Jack, I brought you food.”

Jack’s body twitched a little, but otherwise he didn’t respond.

“Please, Jack, you have to eat. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Jack turned to glare at him. “Oh, you _promise_. Like how the men _promised_ we’d be safe. Like how you _promised_ we’d be rescued.”

“But we will!” Ralph protested, because he couldn’t really say anything about the men who’d got them on the plane that landed them here in the first place. “I haven’t lied.”

“Jack, please eat,” Simon said softly when he didn’t respond. “You have to get better.”

Jack stared at Simon. After an eternity, he growled, “ _Fine._ But you leave.”

Simon ducked out immediately, first smiling a little at Ralph, who mouthed, “ _Thank you_ ,” to him. Then, still bitter from before, he asked Jack, “Do you want me gone, too?”

“You can stay,” he replied grudgingly, and Ralph dropped down to sit beside him.

“Sorry if I…annoyed you earlier. But you haven’t exactly been easy to deal with, either.”

“Guess you’ll just have to put up with it,” Jack murmured, glancing sideways at him. “Since you’re so worried.”

Ralph shrugged. “Guess so.”

A silence settled around them, and Ralph didn’t know how to fill it or make it less awkward. Jack didn’t seem any more comfortable, eating his fruit in slow bites and glancing at him every few seconds.

He stopped suddenly.

“I feel sick.”

“Okay. That’s okay. You can stop. Do you want a drink?”

Jack nodded, and Ralph gave him the water. Jack sipped at it.

He tried to sleep again afterward, but he was clearly distressed. Ralph tried to touch him reassuringly, but this time, Jack flinched away.

“Why are you really here?” he asked, voice unsteady.

“I told you: I’m worried,” Ralph replied.

“So are the others, and none of them stayed.”

“You kicked them out!”

“I kicked you out, too,” Jack pointed out, “and yet here you are.”

“What are you getting so worked up over?” Ralph asked, growing irritated.

“I’m asking if you care about me differently!” Jack practically shouted.

“Well, maybe I do!” Ralph snapped back unthinkingly. Jack stared at him, wide-eyed, and Ralph cursed himself. “I’m bloody stupid.”

Jack stopped him before he could back away, pulling him forward roughly by the arm and kissing him. It was just a peck, the barest press of their lips together, but it stopped Ralph cold.

“Jack—”

“Then maybe I do, too,” he said.

Jack’s hand on his arm was damp and his forehead was sweaty and his face was flushed and they’d just admitted to—to liking each other in a different way than they were supposed to, in a way that would make the other boys whisper unkind things if they knew. It was a lot to process.

So he prioritized; Jack was still sick.

Gently, he pushed Jack down. “You need to sleep,” he said softly.

Jack watched him uncertainly. “Look, I—I’m not—” He gave up on what he was trying to say and asked instead, “Will you stay?”

“I’ll still be here when you wake up,” Ralph reassured him with a smile. “I’d stay even if you didn’t want me to.”

Jack huffed a little at that, but he smiled, too.

“Thanks, I guess.”

He took Ralph’s hand in his own, hesitant, like he was afraid Ralph would reject him. But Ralph curled their fingers together, and Jack smiled shyly at him and closed his eyes. His own smile softening, Ralph reached out with his free hand and stroked Jack’s hair until he fell asleep, still looking small, and weak, but much more peaceful.


End file.
